Spiral Downward Thoughts
by Jenna Black
Summary: AU universe where Voldemort won. Basic summary includes Hermione's thoughts as she copes with her present, thinks of her past, and deals with her future. A work in progress as of Sept'08 when I have decided to go back and rewrite this thing.


Jenna Black

Spiral Downward Thoughts

Rewrite of "How it Ends"

September 09, 2008

I originally wrote this story as a sophomore in High School. Now, nearly 7 years later I am a bit more mature. I hope this rewrite reflects that. This is the first chapter of the rewrite. At least one, if not more chapters are coming.

* * *

The first thing I feel as I wake up is the dryness of my throat, and the scratchiness of my wool blanket against my uncovered arms and legs. Swallowing to ease the dryness, I slip the blanket off myself and begin my morning routine. Opening my eyes and working to focus them, I see nothing but blankness at first, until slowly my eyes adjust enough to see the sloping walls of my cave. I breathe deeply and force myself to accept the oppressing moisture in the air. The cave is dark and dank; it is also the only home that I have now. It has become my shelter from the world, and the only cell in my own, solitary prison. It is also my only hope that I may pass some time unnoticed before I die. I am a coward, and I am not ready for my life to be over. A gruesome, painful death is a certainty now, the only question is when, and who will be the one 'granting' me the pleasure of release. That is what they call it now. The ironic thing is that after all this time, it has become the truth.

It has been many years since the Dark Lord first took over. I was outside, in the world, slowing his takeover and impeding his efforts for the first few years; in the sixth year of our battles, I was sent to this cave as protection. I have lived here now for more days than I know. It was welcome at first, a respite from the pain and suffering. The solitude and exclusion from all wizarding life had been comforting at first; truly giving me a break from the desperate situation I had been involved in for so many years. As time marched on however, the quiet turned unnerving, the solitude disturbing, and the loss of contact with the outside world maddening. Those were my darkest days, the days I nearly threw myself into the outside world begging someone, anyone to simply acknowledge the fact that I existed.

Thankfully, the cave was not just a mere cave. Its enchantments ensured that I could only exit the cave when I was of sound mind – something I most definitely was not at that time. I don't know how long I was gone for at that realization. Apparently a person can be crazy and know they are crazy and still be crazy after all. Time passed. It could have been a day, or a week, or a year. The cave took care of me in that time, and slowly gave back its control as I started dealing with every new emotion and situation. I learned, and I grew. As I did, I slowly gleaned more information about the cave. It was definitely a special cave. It defies the rules of magic. Similar to the Room of Requirement at Hogwarts, I had entered it with nothing, and it had provided anything that I needed. Up to and including food when I was hungry, medicine when I was sick, and products for my monthlies until they finally stopped. I don't know why I know longer had them, but I would guess it had to do with the weight and muscle I had lost. I remember from childhood being warned that if I had lost too much weight, or went for too long with unhealthy habits that they could stop. Thankfully, it made life in the cave much easier without them. The fact that it meant there was something wrong with me never really bothered me.

Time passed, and slowly the desperate need to leave dissipated, until I was allowed closer to the entrance of the cave. Eventually the cave believed me to be of sound mind, and let me advance to the very mouth of the cave. I was too afraid to go outside that day, but soon after I gathered the courage. God help me, I just had to _know_ id I could truly leave. I stepped outside, and felt the warm sun on my face for the first time in years. I breathed in the fresh air, scented with the warm smells of a forest. I recognized them slowly, cataloguing each scent into my mind again, relearning them all after so much time had passed. I smelt the leaves scattered about the forest floor, releasing a slight odor in their decay, the smell of the flowers in the field that I knew to be close by, the pine needles high above, gently wafting down. I stood there, frozen for hours simply closing my eyes and breathing in. Before long, night falls, and I make my way back into the cave for protection.

The next day, it rains torrentially; it is cold, so I stay inside after letting the raindrops run through my right hand for a few moments. As I sit in the cave, my mind reminds me of one unwelcome fact. The more I leave the cave, the more I will resist coming back in. So far I had been driven back inside each time before; I did not know if I could chose to come back inside myself.

'_Can a bird who regains flight choose to walk on the ground?_' I question myself.

'_If it has the strength to stay'_ I reply.

'_Do you really believe that?'_ I ask myself again.

I am afraid to answer that question, even though it is not as though I can withhold an answer from myself. I retreat to the back of the cave, and request heavy curtains be placed by the entrance. I pretend that because I cannot see the entrance to the cave, or the light of the sun shining in, they do not exist. I try to convince myself that they are not an option for me.

After a while, I slowly come to believe it. Instead of imagining the world right beyond my curtain, I imagine worlds far away. I often think back to the days of my youth, of frolicking by the lake and feeling that never ending drive to simply _know_, and learn everything. I think of nights by the fire relaxing with Harry and Ron, and the nights after the terrors when the warmth of friendship burned strongest. When the past gets to be too much for me, I think about the future. Not the future as it is now, but the future as it may have been and as it was imagined then. Sometimes I see the three of us, living together as some un-understandable unit forever; sometimes I see myself married to either one of my boys. I loved them both so much, in so many ways; I wonder what might have been if we had truly been able to grow up together. Sometimes I imagine a world where there is no magic, and how Harry and Ron and I would have been brought together otherwise. In my most desperate moments, I imagine a world where I never knew anything of the magical world, marrying and having children just as my mother did in her younger years. Sometimes I think that this has all been a horrible dream, that I am still warm in my bed at home, a young girl; that soon I will wake up and fight hard to get the goose bumps on my skin to retreat before going back to sleep. I don't let myself think that one too often though, 'the path to insanity is long and twisting, but that way points a direct path' I mutter to myself.

I work hard to not think of the world as it is now. Voldemort is in charge, and most everybody who fought him is dead; either that, or in hiding like me. Some have hardened hearts and turned. Even entertaining myself with images of muggledom have no real hold on me now; the only muggles left are those who have turned on their own kind. I find it highly amusing that the statistics when I entered this cave showed that more muggles had been killed by each other out of fear, than by actual Death Eaters and their attacks. Now those muggles left are out there, running the hospitals (morgues) and prisons (concentration camps). It is truly amazing what people will do when faced with their own death. The acts human beings are capable of is astounding; especially when done to put off something that is inevitable regardless. But I cannot blame them too much; they have been deluded and will soon find that none of their actions can save them. They are simply slaves to the nature that is within all of us. That same nature which keeps me in this cave.

Of course, all of the information that I have is old now, and surely far from accurate. Sometimes it bothers me not knowing, I see only the worst possibilities. Then I remind myself of all the horrible things that could have happened and decide that it is better not knowing. When I think of those events happening to those that I had cared about, I find I am happy that I do not know.

Parts of me hope that I am the only one left; as lonely as that is, it means all those that I love are no longer in pain. But another part of me is irrepressibly hopeful – as long as there is someone out there, there may still be hope.

* * *

Alright, so that ends the first part of this rewritten story. I was trying to write Hermione scatterbrained and mildly repetitive, dwelling on odd things and using oddly structured English to frame her thoughts. I was trying to get into the mindset of someone who had spent so many years completely alone, without another living being for company, only the emptiness of the cave. This is the part where you come in. I want to grow as a writer, and to do that I need feedback to let me know what I am doing well and what I am not doing so well. Thank you for your time.


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